Born on 25th August 1917 at 10 Horsley Road Rochester, Dad and his brother Jack were brought up by Bessie and Frank at the end of the first world war. Frank was the son of a cabinet maker, completing his joinery apprenticeship for Maples in London and was working for Short Brothers Engineering firm as a journeyman. The family moved to a wing of the Manor House, Borstal, when Frank and his brother Bill set up a shop in Rochester which sold tools and ironmongery. (Some reports say it was a junk shop, but I prefer to believe it was more antiques!) Dad went to school at the Sir Joseph Williamson Mathematical School, Rochester from 1929-33 where he took part in gym displays, G&S operas (a dragoon in Patience, and worked as a stage hand for Yeoman of the Guard), and spent many happy times in the Second Medway Scout Group, where he attended weekly troop meetings and weekends preparing and being tested for badges. Even then, his schoolboy ambition was always to become a woodwork teacher, an aspiration not to be realised until some years later. After leaving school, he worked for Featherstones men's outfitters in the glove department, was asked to become Assistant Manager in Sheerness but declined and instead decided to sign up for 12 years in Navy in 1938. In 1939 he joined the Cumberland as a Supplies Assistant spending time in South Atlantic looking for surface raiders of which one of the most infamous was the German warship Graff Spee. Promoted to Chief Petty Officer, his trips included South America, South Africa and the Far East, and also served on HMS Nigeria and Anson. It was on the Anson that he recalls during June 1949 the crew were responsible for escorting Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Edinburgh on their visit to the Channel Islands. The last entry on his service record states “An excellent Stores CPO, entirely reliable and trustworthy, and capable of doing any job well without fuss.” He clearly found time to do a bit of socialising and dating whilst back on dry land and in 1943 married Mum at St Nicholas Church in Rochester, who was working as a shorthand typist for the local authority - they moved into 71 St Margaret’s Street, a flat owned by his father. On leaving the Navy in 1950, he enrolled as a recruit on the Emergency Training Scheme for Teachers at Oakley, Cheltenham (now the GCHQ site), followed by a course at Shoreditch Training College, Englefield Green specialising in handicraft. Mum & Dad bought their first house at 10 Pattens Lane, Rochester in early 1952, in readiness of a very special arrival in July of that year!. Then followed his teaching experience at Troy Town School, followed by Harry Gosling Woodwork Centre and St John Cass School (both in East End London). In 1958, he was appointed metalwork teacher at Matthew Arnold School, for the princely sum of £72 pcm. We moved to Appleton in 1966, and Dad was promoted to Head of Department until his retirement, from teaching at least, in 1977. Dad wasn’t happy with the way the teaching profession was going, and he took advantage of a very favourable retirement inducement package which was on offer from the county council. However, never wanting to remain idle, and probably because he didn’t want to spend too much time at home, Dad started work as a technician at the Department of Educational Studies spending another nine years working for the University. Finally, and still wanting to keep himself busy, he chose to do voluntary work for the Pain Relief Unit at the Churchill Hospital and the Wildlife Trust in Cowley until he was 83. Looking through his leaving cards for both these last two jobs, he was clearly a very popular addition to the team because of his personable nature and still demonstrating the skills mentioned earlier. But now I’d like to share with you some of his many varied interests which he fitted around his working life: 1) Did you know that he helped build the verandah at the back of the Fox Inn, Boars Hill when first came to Oxford? I only learned this in recent years. 2) He was an enthusiastic stamp collector over the last 40 years or so and had an almost continuous collection of first-day covers. 3) As a lifelong Telegraph reader, he checked on the value of his investments each day, and had folders of statements sorted into either PEPs, ISAs, or shares with details of dates, account information, dividend paid, all carefully logged in a ledger. He inherited these from his father back in the mid-seventies and from a modest portfolio saw his investments grow over the years allowing him to receive some extra pocket money in retirement. To be accurate though, he made a career out of attending the annual shareholder meetings where he made some good friends and partook of the generous complimentary buffet lunches and enjoyed site-seeing in London. When his eyesight deteriorated we bought a widescreen TV and electronic magnifier to view the financial pages on CEEFAX. 4) Up to the age of 69 he had never flown, but suddenly and on a whim he booked a glider flight from High Wycombe which took him over much of the Thames Valley. In 1987 he was flying in a microlight from Lockinge, near Wantage and later in the year experienced an airship flight from Radlett, Bedfordshire into central London. Details of the flights are carefully logged in an album and accompanied by informative text and photographs dedicated to each journey. He describes one experience as most exhilarating, which I’m sure had nothing to do with the fact that the glider pilot’s name was Sally. Even In 2000, and for his 83rd birthday, I took him on a hot air balloon flight with around a dozen passengers which took us over central Oxford and ending near Abingdon. To this day he never went in an aeroplane and he regretted not flying in Concorde – an opportunity which we seriously discussed in 2007. Turning to Dad as someone special, he was always ordered and meticulous with the way he organised his life: His home workshop was always neat and tidy, with boxes and tins clearly labelled and stocked with plentiful supplies of tools, screws, nails, nuts, bolts, timber and metal offcuts readily available, and draws filled with all those sundry bits and pieces you just can’t get nowadays in the local hardware store. He never threw anything useful away. The vegetable garden was weed free having finely-hoed soil between each plant, with rows of neatly planted carrots, onions, beetroot and spinach all equally spaced from one another like an army of finely drilled soldiers on parade. Some of the vegetables would be frozen each year, with handwritten labels already sellotaped onto a stack of old ice cream boxes ready to receive the carefully-prepared produce. He was a man of routine. He preferred plain English food and as long as I can remember the weekends were always reserved for fried breakfasts: after the generous knob of lard had melted, he added a single slice of bacon, pork sausage (always economy range!), egg and three mushrooms – all finished off with one slice of toast (white bread of course) which would be placed in the ageing frying pan to soak up all the fat. By contrast, the evening meal consisted of salad fresh from the garden. Sharp knives were an essential tool at mealtimes irrespective of the menu – the sharpening stone readily at hand in the kitchen draw. Dressing was always in the same order and morning activities were the same everyday, and we knew exactly what he hadn’t done previously if his socks weren’t on. I used to joke with him that if ever he was found unconscious on the floor, we would be able time his fall by the hour. Dad was not a TV fan but enjoyed the radio, regularly tuning into football on local radio on Saturday afternoon. He was an avid supporter of Gillingham FC and in the last few years could usually be found sitting listening (or was it asleep?) to a very distorted broadcast of the match being relayed from a nearby radio station when he couldn’t receive it on Radio Oxford. Although he never played in instrument, he appreciated music. On coming to Oxford he worshipped St Aldates, where in the 1960s some of the packed congregation could be found sitting under the windows listening to the weekly sermon. Here I joined the church choir, but it was Dad who soon organised for my voice trial 1961, a decision for which I shall be forever grateful. After each weekday evensong he would always collect me and ferry me to and fro in the car for the Sunday services whilst a chorister at Magdalen. At home we would always hear ClassicFM playing from his bedroom, day and night, and he regularly listened to Choral Evensong especially liking the psalms, and humming along to the hymns. For the years he was looking after the his parent’s bungalow down in Rochester, he attended Saturday evensong at the cathedral, and we have a recent photograph of him standing beneath a plaque in the chorister’s songschool which was donated in memory of his brother who was a sidesman at the cathedral. But it wasn’t just these memories which made him such a character, it was something more special which I only began to appreciate when only Dad supported our wedding service in 1992 and I was able to enjoy from 2005. Dad and I never really had a good relationship when I was growing up as Mum always took the primary caring role as she was always ready to listen when needed. However it took Mum’s death for me to fully understand my father and it‘s only been the last four years when I’ve been able to appreciate him so much. We discussed at great length various options which would enable him to live independently at Maytree, and he was very happy to go ahead with the building work which would provide him with groundfloor accommodation in light surroundings. So soon afterwards we embarked upon the extension which thankfully he saw to completion. The last few years were so rewarding with many shared interests: • Family History research, through which we rediscovered two cousins, one of whom he had not seen since they were children. • He took an interest in Ebay sales, throughout which we tried to sell off some of the family treasures. The highlights for him, were always the less glamorous sales such as some car ramps he made or old plumbing items. • He was my first assistant on the recording projects. We made excellent use of the disabled parking permit when working in Oxford Town Hall and the Sheldonian as he was quite happy to join me on the expeditions, happily sitting in the car for unloading and loading equipment and listening to the concerts. • Then there were our regular Tescos trips where I could never quite understand why I was frequently losing track of him despite that fact he shuffled around the aisles so slowly. • And the Wednesday pub meetings with my friends where he enjoyed some lively conversation and of course the barley wine. He had an unusual capacity for the Gold Label which until 2007 was occasionally totalling four cans a day. Despite the quantity he never suffered any headaches the following day so it can’t have done much harm. Deteriorating mobility required a knee replacement operation in 2005, followed by the hip operation in 2007, at which time he moved in with me fulltime in Abingdon. With the macular degeneration he became registered blind and more dependent on us. I am grateful to Joyce for providing the support and friendship towards him over these years. He appreciated her love and affection which Mum didn’t give him in the latter half of his life. Joyce provided extra companionship, helped with the crosswords, and gave him a goodnight kiss he always looked forward to, and he was happy to see us back together again. Despite his apparent blindness, and right to the end of his life, he was still capable of eyeing up and down the attractive medical staff, studying a bare midriff or a tattoo on the back and responded with a smile. He was always happy to be surrounded by female company, a common theme which runs through his life. So I shall look back on Dad with much affection. It will be such tributes as “a lovely man”, “a gentleman” and “a pleasure to talk to” which we are now receiving – a testament to his lasting qualities. I valued his trust and faith in me and can say without hesitation that he was not just my Dad but my best friend.